Bending the Rules
by LogicalBookThief
Summary: General Iroh was, quite literally, prince charming. And contrary to what Jinora's stories said, Bolin knew that gallant princes didn't fall in love with poor boys like him. At least, they're not supposed to.


Hello, LoK fandom! Uh, this is an idea I've had since before Book 2 aired and since Book 3 thus far is all kinds of awesome, I've finally decided to try posting it. In essence, it's an unconventional fairytale-esque romance between Iroh II and Bolin (I ship it and I'm proud) that starts post Book 1 and will weave it's way into the current plot, should I continue. It all depends on the responses I receive. So, without further adieu, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own A:TLA, LoK, or any of their respected characters.

* * *

Fighting Equalists was a piece of cake compared to cleaning up the mess Amon had left behind. In spite of his failure to execute his revolution, the masked antagonist had successfully destroyed multiple areas of the city. And that was only the physical damage report – according to Tenzin, the political ramifications were even worse.

Bolin wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He was a straightforward guy, honest to a fault, and most of the subtle and sometimes deceitful nuances of politics went right over his head. But he didn't think he was missing much. It was nice when there were politicians like Tenzin, who genuinely cared about the people's welfare; however, more often than not, they were only interested in furthering their own careers and cared little for how their actions and decisions might impact those who lived beneath upturned noses.

That being said, Bolin knew he wasn't going to be able to help the city recover by sitting inside a room and discussing reform. Still, he was determined to assist in any way he could. If that meant clearing away rubble and bending deformed buildings back into shape, then so be it. Bolin enjoyed construction detail, actually, even when it meant having to work in some of the seedier parts of Republic City.

Seeing that the sun would soon be setting, he decided to call it quits for the day. All of the other workers in this area had long since retired, so Bolin was left to trudge home alone, where probably only Pabu awaited. Between enrolling in the police force and his relationship with Korra, Mako had been very busy lately; so busy, in fact, that Bolin didn't see as much of his brother as he was accustomed to.

It would be a lie to say it didn't hurt a bit; Mako had been his only family for so long that Bolin wasn't quite sure what to do without him, since before very recently, they had always done everything together. At the same time, Bolin was immensely proud of his brother for bidding goodbye to his criminal past and doing something worthwhile, something he loved. And then he felt guilty for hurting in the first place because Mako had been taking care of Bolin their _entire_ childhood, doing whatever it took to keep his little brother safe and happy, and how dare he feel sad about his brother finally pursing the life he deserved.

Bolin shook his head, dispelling the morose thoughts from his mind. "At this rate, I'll give myself a headache," he mumbled. Distracted as he was, the earthbender – who was not very observant to begin with – failed to notice the two thugs sneaking up from behind until a third stepped out in front of him. Bolin jolted, coming to a screeching halt.

"Hey, kid. You lost or something?" the thug smirked, exposing his tobacco-stained teeth.

"Just heading home," replied Bolin, trying to sound neutral, like Mako had taught him. "I don't want any trouble."

"Too little, too late," the thug sighed, while the lackeys behind him snickered. "The moment you stepped on our turf you were in trouble. Now empty your pockets and we _might_ consider letting you leave with your face in tact."

"Hey, my pockets are as empty as yours. So why don't we cut our losses and part ways like friends?" Bolin held up his hands in a pacifistic gesture, flashing his most winning smile. It always appeased the pro-bending crowd, but apparently, these guys weren't fans.

"Fat chance," the thug sneered; water snaked out from a pouch at his side, forming a whip that came flying towards the earthbender.

Bolin was quick to deflect it with a wall of rock, swerving to miss a kick from behind, and narrowly avoiding another water whip. Taking on three opponents was a lot easier when you had two teammates on your side, he realized, aiming a flurry of stones at the waterbender.

He managed to take out one of the lackeys with a beautifully executed pro-bending move (the crowd would've been on their feet cheering), but in doing so left his right flank unguarded, and received a nasty blow from the water whip for his lack of vigilance. Bolin coughed on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Rising to his knees, he saw the thug closing in for another attack, and _crap,_ he had to get his breath back or else he wouldn't be able to dodge in time –

– to see the whip headed for his face dissolve into steam, and to watch the thug's expression morph from smug to baffled to indignant. Snarling, the thug turned to address the foolish intervenor, but whatever expletive he'd been poised to shout fled at the sight of Bolin's savior.

"Pardon me," drawled General Iroh, ever the sophisticated mixture of politeness and intimidation. "But I believe you may want to rethink your actions."

With a slackened jaw, the thug stared, obviously unsure of how to proceed. _That makes two of us,_ though Bolin, who was also gaping.

"Because attacking an innocent person for no reason is really quite dishonorable," Iroh continued, akin to how a disappointed parent might lecture a delinquent child. Except most parents didn't sound like they were a few minutes away from filleting said delinquent. "I'll let you go with a warning, though I suggest you _reform_ this deplorable behavior. For if I catch you at it again in the future, I won't be so forgiving."

Throat bobbing, the thug nodded, grabbed his cohorts and ran. Probably more out of survival instinct than actual intelligence. Bolin watched them go before returning his gaze to the general, who looked too heroic to be real. "Dude," he gasped.

His voice brought Iroh to his side, swiftly offering the younger man a hand. "Are you okay?" he questioned, eyes searching for injury.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But that was..." Bolin grappled for the words that could accurately describe such a surreal event. "..._amazing!_ You sent those guys running with nothing but a stern look!"

Iroh blinked before accepting the compliment with a smile. "Of course. I am a general, after all," he said wryly. "If my troops weren't intimidated by me, how else would I keep them in line?"

Bolin chuckled. He hadn't pegged Iroh for someone with a keen sense of humor, what with being a military man, and a prince to boot. Speaking of illustrious backgrounds...

"What're you doing in this part of the city, anyway?" inquired Bolin. "No offense, it's sort of, well...dirty."

Raising a brow, Iroh regarded him dryly. "While that is a bit off-putting, I'd be a disgrace to my rank if I let it interfere with my taking a walk." For some reason, the firebender appeared sheepish as he continued, "My meeting with the president ended only half an hour ago. I needed to stretch my legs and clear my head... I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going."

"Ohhhh, you got lost," Bolin deadpanned, amused by the dusting of pink that spread over the general's cheeks. It made him look younger, less refined. "No worries, I won't tell anyone. But if you want to return to your ship, you follow this road until you reach the intersection, then take a left. Easy peasy."

"Actually, I would rather accompany you." Bolin balked at the sudden request. Recognizing his confusion, Iroh added, "To ensure you get home safely."

"You don't have to," said Bolin, shrugging. "It's not far and I know these roads like the back of my hand."

"Nonetheless," Iroh pressed, fixing Bolin with a firm stare. "It would give me peace of mind."

Knowing he wasn't going to win this argument and secretly eager to have the company, Bolin surrendered. "Alright, then. This way, general."

"Iroh, please."

Okay," Bolin acquiesced with a grin. "This way, Iroh."

* * *

"So, this is what you do in your free time, when you're not taking down fighter planes? Rescue people on the streets?"

"Occasionally," Iroh admitted.

Bolin sighed in envy. "Man, that is _so_ cool. You're like one of those storybook princes, except in real life."

"I'm sure you're just exaggerating."

"Nah, you've got all the princely qualifications!" Bolin insisted. "Heroic, strong, handsome, loyal–"

"Handsome?" repeated Iroh, glancing side-long at his companion.

Bolin's face blushed the color of the general's uniform.

"Well, uh, what I-I meant was – i-in the stories they always describe the prince as handsome. Not that real princes can't be handsome, because you're not ugly or anything - of course you're not ugly! You're the farthest thing from ugly there is and I heard from a few old ladies once that your grandfather wasn't bad either so it must run in the family and please, _please_ feel free to put me out of my misery," he pleaded.

Unfortunately, the spirits must hate him because instead of lighting him on fire like a merciful firebender would, Iroh _laughed _and laughed, until his skin was shade less red than Bolin's.

When he could breathe again, Iroh made a show of wiping a tear from his eye. "Remind me to send my grandfather your regards. He will be delighted by the compliment."

Mortified, Bolin cried, "Oh, spirits, don't! I totally heard that by accident – Toza had guests at the gym and I overheard them comparing Mako to Firelord Zuko and his brooding good looks, and yeah, I won't tell you what else they said because it was traumatic enough for me."

"Thank you," said the general.

"Don't mention it. I wouldn't wish that mental anguish on anyone."

"No, not that," Iroh snorted, lightly clutching his chest. "Agni, I haven't laughed that hard in ages. It feels refreshing."

However, even as he spoke, the earthbender caught the pained grimace that contorted the general's features.

"Looks like it hurts," observed Bolin, frowning. "You were injured in the Equalist attack. Maybe you shouldn't be taking evening strolls or fighting street bandits."

"You sound like my ship's doctor," Iroh muttered. "Really, I'm quite well."

"If you say so," said Bilbo, unconvinced. They had arrived at his apartment, and by all rights, should be saying their farewells and parting ways. But instead, for reasons unknown, the earthbender asked, "Hey, do you want to come in for a cup or tea?"

"Tea?" Iroh perked.

Bolin nodded. "It's the least I could, after everything. How about it?"

Iroh considered it, casting his gaze at the building. "Are you sure your brother won't mind?"

"He isn't home," Bolin replied flippantly. "Come on. My _honor_ is at stake here."

A smile tugged at the corner of the genera's mouth, Bolin saw, threatening to betray the somberness of his expression.

"Well, if it's a matter of _honor_..."

* * *

Bolin didn't have many memories of his parents. He had fragments, really – portions of conversations and lullabies, snatches of smiles and green/amber eyes, short scenes of a life nearly forgotten. One thing he did remember was that his mother used to say, "There's hardly anything in this world a warm cup of tea can't mend."

At the very least, it seemed to do wonders for Iroh and his aching ribs, if the pleased noise that slipped through the general's lips as took a sip was any indication.

"Where did you learn to brew like this?" he queried, somewhat startling Bolin with his enthusiasm.

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe it's the blend?" Bolin supposed, checking the box label. "...Scratch that, this is the cheap stuff."

Iroh hummed contentedly. "My great-uncle was very fond of tea and ran his own shop in Ba Sing Se until the day he passed. According to him, it wasn't what kind tea you brewed, but how kindly you brewed it. I think he would be very impressed with your skills."

"Really?" Bolin breathed aloud. "Wow. I mean, your grandfather's uncle is a _legend._ Do you know how many bedtime stories he's been the star of?" He smiled into his tea, giddy and flattered. "I guess, it's strange thinking someone like him would be impressed by my tea-blending."

"I think he'd be impressed with you overall," asserted Iroh. The tone of his voice had gone from pleasant to something Bolin couldn't quite put his finger on.

He looked at the general quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, you ought to give yourself more credit, Bolin," Iroh advised, surprising the earthbender with his sincerity. "I've come to realize there's a lot more to you than meets the eye."

Bolin took a moment to digest this, taking the words to heart.

Now that Iroh addressed it, perhaps he _had_ been feeling a bit overshadowed lately. Being friends with the _avatar,_ a superior brother, the heiress to a hugely successful company, and not to mention the last airbenders on earth – well, it wasn't much of an ego booster. But in hindsight, that was no reason to sell himself short. Bolin had always been comfortable in his own skin, at peace with his place in the world. Since his world was beginning to change, he simply had to find a new fit, is all.

Satisfied with this revelation, Bolin offered his gratitude with a blinding smile, a gesture that seemed to – no, it must have been his imagination, 'cause there was no way a general of the United Nations could ever appear flustered. Never mind, thought Bolin, recalling Iroh's earlier characterization.

Likewise, maybe there was more to the general that meets the eye.


End file.
